


Stolen Moments

by Crysania



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: In the heat of battle, they find their way to each other. It's all they can have, all they can ever have...Set post-TLJ





	Stolen Moments

The first time they see each other after the battle of Crait is on opposite sides of two very angry factions. Ben…Kylo Ren…she’s not even sure what to call him anymore. He’s now their Supreme Leader and she can see the way his jaw clenches, his hand forming into a fist when he sees her wielding her lightsaber against his forces.

She’s fast.

She’s furious.

But she can feel him watching her the entire time.

He’s almost lazy in the use of his own lightsaber, dodging blaster fire, stopping it in midair, almost as if he does it all without thinking for even a second. He twirls his saber, that long crackling bit of intensity that seems to be an extension of his own nature. It’s easy for him. Almost too easy.

Rey finds herself face to face with him far too soon in the battle. The Stormtroopers flow around her, heading toward her friends, her _family_ , while Kylo Ren stands directly in front if her. As if he’s commanded them to leave her be. _She’s his_.

And she knows. _Knows_ this is true by the way his dark eyes meet hers and the small nod he gives her before raising his saber. Her own is raised a moment later, her eyes narrowing, and she lets out a furious yell as she charges him. If he’s going to play that game, as if they’ve never had a quiet peaceful moment between them…

_You’re not alone…_

_Neither are you…_

Even now she can feel the bond beating at her, wings taking to flight inside her mind, trying to break free. She won’t tap into it, keeps him blocked off even as he offers her a half smirk and parries each thrust.

He’s toying with her. But she realizes, as he backs down a hallway and she follows, that she is toying with him as well.

He won’t kill her

She won’t kill him.

And it’s not even a stalemate. It’s not that one of them _couldn’t_ eventually get the upper hand, though they are strangely matched in their abilities, despite his years of study and her lack. He’s all brutal strength and easy use of his weapon. His reach is long and he swings his saber with the all the power of someone who practices with it every day. But she is fury and speed and surprise attacks. She feints and twists and turns to avoid the saber that never quiet connects.

He taps into the light when he fights. Calm and controlled.

She taps into the dark. Fury and a near loss of control that makes her ferocious.

The hallway they fight in his deserted and she knows a moment of fear as his hand hits the wall next to him. A door hisses open and before she can even contemplate what he’s doing, he’s reached out, grabbed her about the waist and hauled her inside.

He extinguishes his lightsaber as soon as the door shuts behind them and she studies him in the blue light from the one she still holds aloft.

“Truce,” he says and the word is quiet.

She feels a shiver go down her spine, feels her shoulders lose a bit of the tension, but she doesn’t put her saber down. Not yet. She can’t…she doesn’t know _how_.

“Between…” she starts to say.

“Us.” The word falls heavily into the room, despite his whispering it. “Put it down, Rey.”

It’s her name that breaks her and she finally extinguishes it, plunging the room into near complete darkness. Kylo Ren is nothing more than a darker shape in a dark room and she can’t search his eyes, can’t even begin to understand what he’s done. What he’s doing.

The battle rages on somewhere outside.

But here they’re locked into a strange sort of quiet peace. And for the first time in what seems like years though she’s sure it’s only been a month or two, she takes a deep breath and lets go of the walls she’s put around her mind.

_It burns_.

The bond crashes through her, fire and ice through conduits that she felt sure were closed for good.

_Pain._

_Ecstasy._

_Want._

_Need_.

She’s not even sure whose emotions are whose at the moment. She has a clear picture for just a second of their bodies entwined, long pale arms winding around her, mouths fused together, the feeling of bare skin touching.

_Ben_ …

And then she feels herself pushed up against the wall behind her, his hands on her shoulders. The touch is light, but firm. He’s breathing hard and she feels a small catch in her own breath, just moments before she feels him shift, bend toward her. She can feel his breath fan out across her face and his nose bumps into her cheek. A little too hard.

He curses under his breath.

She chokes back a small giggle.

And then his lips are on hers and it’s _nothing_ like she expected. She expects him to _take_ (y _ou know I can take whatever I want_ ), expects harsh, all teeth and tongue. A little out of control. She expects his fighting style, if she’s completely honest with herself.

But that’s not it _at all_. His lips are soft against hers, almost tentative. His hand, when it comes up to cup her chin, is trembling before it finally settles there. She feels a tremor pass through his body when she opens her mouth beneath his, melting into what is a far more timid embrace than she would have expected from the man who killed Snoke ( _for you)_ , the man who attacked Luke, or what there was of him on Crait, with a ferocity few had ever seen. No, this is quiet, almost sweet. When they part, he rests his forehead against hers.

“Rey…” Her name is a prayer, a question. It makes her shiver.

She starts to speak his name when there’s a commotion from the hallway.

Her name. Shouted. “I know she came this way!” Finn.

“Rey!” That was Poe. “She was fighting Kylo Ren.”

“I hope he didn’t…”

“Don’t even say it.” Finn’s voice is harsh. “I won’t believe it.”

The man in question curses.

“I have to…” Rey starts to say.

“I know.” He reaches up quietly and cups her face once more before disappearing into the shadows of the room. He’ll hide there. She’ll let him.

She’s out the door before she can even think about it. “Finn! Poe! I’m here!” As the two turn around and rush to her she hears his voice in her head.

_This isn’t over_ …

* * *

The second time is almost a month later. The Resistance has been pushed back time and time again, but the fight lives on.

Kylo Ren lives inside her head.

Sometimes she sees him and he watches her, any rage that had been building in him draining out the moment the sound around them disappears, the moment she feels that tell-tale buzz inside her head. He doesn’t say much but she watches the way his eyes move down to her lips and she’s reminded that yes, she really did kiss him.

She’s still not sure just _whose_ vision that was in her head of them entwined in a much more intimate way and she tries to pretend she never saw it.

But then it pops into her mind at odd moments and when she sees him appear…in her room, in the hallway, once even in the dining room…she feels a blush creep up her cheeks. And if she didn’t see the _same_ blush highlighting his sharp cheekbones she would feel more embarrassed by the whole thing than she does.

_This isn’t over_ …

She remembers his words when they’re infiltrating a First Order base on a remote planet in the Outer Rim. There has been intelligence that they’re building _something_. No one is quite sure where said intelligence came from exactly. It was passed down to the Resistance through several channels, none of which Rey was privy to.

But Rey knows.

Or _suspects_ at least.

And those suspicions are at least somewhat confirmed when they get to the surface and there’s…nothing. Or at least, nothing obvious. The building they’re moving through seems abandoned. There’s no working machinery, no buzzing of droids, no signs of occupation at all. Rey can see by the annoyed look on Finn’s face that he’s ready to just get back to the ship. But Poe’s shoulders are tensed. He knows. He’s been there.

_Ambush_.

Rey’s lightsaber is lit before they even see their opponents. When they come at them, surround them, she realizes this is not the First Order’s usual way of attacking. Though the group is masked, they are not Stormtroopers. Dressed all in black, red accents across the faceplates of their masks, they resemble Kylo Ren more than Stormtroopers.

When they draw lightsabers, Rey lets out a small gasp.

“The Knights of Ren,” she hears Finn say and the words are half-hushed in the strange silence of the room.

And then there’s another one standing in the midst of them, taller and broader than the rest. Kylo Ren steps between them as if the whole thing is choreographed. He still goes without his mask and Rey wonders if he had destroyed the thing somewhere along the line. The Knights spin out about him and he bows. To her. Not a mere nod of the head, but a deep bow from the waist.

Finn attempts a shot.

Rey gasps.

Ren stops it in its path and it disintegrates as if it hits a shield she knows isn’t there.

The Knights rush forward as one and Rey lets out a shout, ferocious, as she rushes Kylo Ren. Their lightsabers clash a moment later. Fierce, fiery. She hears the sparks that come from his. She knows she’d recognize that sound with her eyes shut. No one’s lightsaber sounds as if it’s a hair’s breadth from an explosion. Dark and vibrant as its wielder.

He falls back as she pushes forward.

“Don’t let him draw you away!” comes Poe’s voice. And she realizes that’s exactly what he is doing, pulling back as she advances. His eyes flick over his shoulder. There’s a hallway.

She doesn’t know where it leads.

She’s not sure he does.

But it doesn’t matter. He moves toward it and she follows. They spin and their lightsabers twirl and clash time and time again. He bares his teeth in a ferocious snarl that she’s almost sure is half smile. He’s _enjoying_ this, as he pulls her away from the melee into their own private battle.

They’re only just around the corner, in the half dimness of the abandoned hallway, before he’s pulling her into a room, extinguishing his saber and pushing her against the wall. “I needed this,” he mutters a moment before his lips are on hers. Her lightsaber hits the ground, extinguished, just a second later.

This time the kiss _is_ fierce. She yields to him almost immediately, eyes slamming shut as his tongue meets hers. It’s another sort of duel, she realizes. And she knows he’s drawn her there to continue it. His hand comes up to touch her face, cup her chin. The fingers stroke along her jaw, almost gentle in the way they touch, explore.

Her arms wrap around his waist, curl up, pull him down toward her. When his lips tear from hers a moment later she almost feels bereft at the lack of contact. But then they’re on her neck, pressing messy and open-mouthed kisses and she feels a small moan bubble up from _somewhere_ inside her.

“I’m supposed to be fighting you,” she murmurs.

“I know,” is all he answers with, his voice a vibration against the pulse point at the base of her neck.

She shivers.

He nips at her neck.

She grips him closer.

“We shouldn’t…”

“Why?”

His hand tangles in her hair. It’s loose about her shoulders, the buns she once automatically pulled her hair up into every morning gone. Gone sometime since she fell into a cave and her entire life changed. Gone since she found herself connected to the broken creature who was currently tugging her head to the side _just so_ and sucking her earlobe into that mouth and using his tongue in ways she never quite imagined anyone doing.

Her knees go just a little bit weak and he pulls her tight against him, all the hard planes of his body pressed tightly against hers.

“Ben…” His name comes out soft, but firmer than she intends. “We really shouldn’t…”

He pulls away then and his eyes try to search hers in the darkness of the room. “You don’t want to.” It’s not quite a question, but not quite a statement either, and she finds herself shaking her head. His shoulders slump slightly and he starts to back away from her.

She tries to reach out to him but he’s managed to get far enough away, wrap his arms around himself. He’s almost _small_ in that moment, which is an odd thing to think when he’s so _huge_. And she’s not a tiny woman. A bit above average in height, she towers over General Organa and finds both Finn and Poe not particularly tall. She often feels on an eye level with them. But Kylo Ren? _Ben?_ She tries to imagine his standing next to his mother and realizes it must be a peculiar sight.

“That’s not what…”

“Just go.” There’s a note of finality, of resignation to the words.

“Ben…”

“That’s not my name!” The words burst out of him and he takes a step forward with them. Aggressive. She’s almost sure his lightsaber will ignite. But then he shrinks back into himself and turns away.

She steps to the door and it slides open. She turns back. For just a moment. She wants to say…something. “This isn’t over,” she says softly and then she’s gone.

She finds Finn and Poe standing in the middle of a circle of the Knights of Ren. She raises her lightsaber, ignites it. They turn almost as one to look at her. One by one they bow and turn, walk away. It’s almost a dance, she thinks, as she watches the way they move. Grace and beauty, dark and deadly. But they leave and a moment later she’s left standing with her friends, lightsaber still extended, the enemy gone.

“What happened?” She extinguishes her saber and looks to her friends. Finn is still staring at the door the Knights disappeared through, mouth half open. Poe is watching _her_ and there’s something strange about his gaze. Like he’s _almost_ to the answer he knows is there but can’t quite flush it out.

“They held us here,” Poe says.

Finn finally turns back to look at her. “That’s all.” He shakes his head. “Until you came back.”

“Seriously what _was_ that about?” Poe takes a couple steps closer to her. Rey isn’t sure what to say. She knows. _She knows_. They were drawn here, not to infiltrate a First Order base. There _is_ no such thing. Not on this planet. They were drawn here because of _him_.

She tries to speak, tries to come up with something.

“Rey?” Finn suddenly says and she feels both sets of eyes pinning her in place. She turns to look at him. _Meet his eyes, don’t look away, you know what’s coming_. “Where’s Ren?”

“He’s…” _Alone…despondent…_ “Not a threat.”

“At the moment?” Poe asks and there’s something pointed about the question.

“He’s incapacitated.” It’s easier than telling the truth. She knows that he’s still in that room and she can feel… _something_ …anger, humiliation, and something else she’d rather not dwell on.

“If he’s knocked out, we should take him with us. What a boon that would…”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rey says and moves toward the ship.

Poe grabs her arm. “Finn’s right.”

Rey shoves away from him and moves off. _Don’t do this guys, don’t make me explain…_

“Rey what are you doing?” Finn calls after her and she turns back, just briefly.

“The Knights will be back for him. Do you really want to be here when they return?” _Don’t make me use mind tricks on you guys. Please don’t…_ She wonders how far to the dark side that would make her fall. They’re both staring at her and she can’t quite meet their eyes.

“Alright Rey,” Finn finally says and takes a step in her direction. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but alright. We’ll leave.”

Poe’s eyes widen and it looks like he wants to say _something_.

“I want some sort of explanation,” Poe says and Rey sighs. Poe holds up a hand. “Not right now. But you owe us.” His voice is tight and his eyes just slightly narrowed and Rey doesn’t know what to say to him.

There is no explanation that would be acceptable. _I was holed up in a private room kissing the Supreme Leader of the First Order_ …

She finally just nods and disappears into the ship, leaving the other two to follow.

* * *

The third time she’s alone. It’s easier that way. And she knows. Maybe she’s _always_ known, really. These fights are not real. They’re meant to draw her out, draw her in. The bond, which always churns quietly in the background isn’t _enough_. It hasn’t been. Not since they first touched. Not since they first fought _together_ instead of _against_ each other.

She always wants _more_.

And now she knows what _more_ is. The slide of lips against each other, that feeling of being wholly yourself with someone else, feeling their mind inside your own, their hands light upon your body.

When they’ve been drawn again to the far reaches of the Outer Rim, she walks in on Poe’s meeting with Leia. They’re making plans. X-Wings, ground troops.

“No,” she says before anyone even knows she’s there.

Poe’s head shoots up and his eyes narrow on her. “No to _what_?”

“No to it all.” The words come out in a rush. “I go alone.” It’s the way it has to be. It’s the way _he_ wants it. Just her. No one else. She knows the Knights won’t be there this time. She’s not even sure _how_ she knows. The bond hasn’t opened. He hasn’t said a word. But she _feels_ him, can sense churning emotions and a touch of anxiety.

“You are not going alone.” He says the words as if they’re final. As if he somehow has a say.

She shakes her head and gives him a sad smile. “I am…”

“You’ll be killed.”

“I won’t…”

He cuts of her off again and she can sense his rising exasperation. “I know you may be some sort of hot-shot _Jedi_ , but even you cannot face down dozens of Stormtroopers, the Knights of Ren _and_ their leader.”

“There’s no one down there. Just _him_.”

Poe doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches her. “And you think…”

This time she’s the one who interrupts. “I can handle him.” She tries not to think about the type of _handling_ she’s been doing with him and hopes her face doesn’t turn any shade of pink. “I mean…” She glances over at Leia, just briefly, and sees her watching her with a knowing half-smile on her face. She sometimes forgets that the general is force sensitive.

“Let her go,” Leia finally says.

“General…”

“Let her go,” she repeats. When Poe looks like he might protest again, she holds up a hand. “My word is final. Rey goes alone. We’ll be here to back her up if needed.”

With that pronouncement, she adjourns their meeting and Poe leaves, but not before shooting her one last look. Half anger, half betrayal and just a touch of _something_ she can’t quite define.

“He’s a tough one, that one,” Leia says as Rey is starting to leave. Rey pauses and turns back to her. “But he means well.”

“I know.” She’s not sure what else to say but she has a feeling she’s not meant to leave. Not just yet.

“My son,” Leia finally says. Rey turns fully back to her, one hand resting on the doorframe. “You’re meeting with him.”

“I am.” There have been no words between her and Kylo Ren. There’s no need for words. She knows he’s going to be there alone. She knows he’s there for _her_. Not for battles, not for any sort of First Order business. He’s there simply _for her_.

_This isn’t over_ …

It won’t be, she realizes. It will _never_ be.

Leia looks as if she’s about to say something else, finally doing nothing more than reaching out a hand to touch Rey’s shoulder. There’s no need for words, no way words could convey everything she knows she must be thinking. _Tell him his mother misses him… I’m still angry with him…bring him home…_

“I know,” she says in response and Leia nods, her eyes closing as she turns away from her. Too many words, too many emotions, and Rey feels a tightness in her chest that she’s been trying to avoid noticing for some time now.

Everything is quiet when she lands and disembarks from the small shuttle she’s taken to the surface. She finds herself in a dark hangar, the light fading into near pitch black when the door to her shuttle cuts off the last of its light. She raises her lightsaber, not as a threat against monsters in the dark, but simply to light the way.

“I thought we weren’t here to fight,” comes the voice from somewhere out in the darkness. She can just barely see him there, a darker shadow that the light from her saber just about reaches.

“I can’t see,” she points out and is surprised to hear what sounds like a small chuckle.

“Did my uncle teach you nothing then?”

“He taught me…”

“To reach out, right? Did he hit you with that reed?”

She just stares at him.

“I see from the look on your face that he did.”

“How did you…”

“He hasn’t exactly changed his methods.” And she’s _almost_ sure there’s a small tilt to the corner of his mouth that she can’t quite decide is amusement or sadness. Maybe a little bit of both if she’s completely honest with herself.

There’s silence for a moment and she hears him take a step closer. She can see his face more clearly in the pale light of her saber.

“What are we doing here, Ben?” She has to give him some credit. He no longer flinches at the name. In some ways, she’s almost sure he _likes_ it. She can’t imagine calling him Kylo. Or Ren. Or whatever the people of the First Order call him. _Supreme Leader_ , she reminds herself.

Another step toward her.

“I don’t know.” There’s a rawness to the words, his voice sounding like it’s been rubbed along sandpaper, a small hitch to the final word. “You tell me.”

Her words are whispered. “I don’t know either.” At this point she’s not even sure _what_ she knows anymore. Up is down and in is out and black and white have blurred into grey. She only knows she _must be here_.

When he kisses her this time it’s soft, just the brush of lips against hers. One hand comes up to her face, lightly pulling her toward him as he delves deeper. She loses herself in that kiss, in _him_ , as if she’s drowning in an ocean of light and warmth. And then her lightsaber is extinguished and she drops it to the ground, not even noticing the sound it makes as it hits. Her hands are in his hair and she wonders why this _took so damned long_.

Why haven’t they been doing this since they first met?

Since they first crossed lightsabers, snarling and snapping at each other like wolves on the hunt?

Since they first found themselves in each other’s minds, peeling back layers, all their insecurities and wants and _needs_ laid bare?

_Why so damned long?_

“I don’t know.” She feels the words against her lips more than she hears them and she almost laughs when she realizes he’s in her mind and feels what she feels and hears her thoughts. She sends him a series of images and feels his knees almost buckle as he groans against her mouth. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She pulls back from him and lightly strokes the skin at the nape of his neck. “The great Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, brought low by sex with a scavenger from Jakku.” She’s teasing but is surprised to feel him stiffen in her arms. It’s slight, just a small movement, but it’s there nonetheless. “It was…” she starts to say.

But then his lightsaber is lit.

And near her face.

She almost jumps back but he holds her close to him. “Is that what we’re doing?” His eyes search hers and she realizes that the saber is not there to threaten, but as _light_.

“I thought we were,” she admits. Not that she has any experience with it. A few terrible kisses, a few innocent teenage fumblings in the dark of the Jakku desert, hearing with horror the things some of the men visiting Unkar Plutt for nefarious purposes wanted to do to her. But that’s it. And it’s been some years since her last attempts at any sort of intimacy. There wasn’t time for such things when you were more concerned about getting your next meal or drink of dirty water.

He watches her for a moment longer and then tosses his saber aside, the light extinguishing as it hits the ground and skids across it. The noise that comes out of him is like nothing she’s ever imagined. Half cry, half shout, all _need_. It sends chills down her spine and she’s almost sure she might have stumbled and fallen if he hadn’t suddenly _grabbed her_. She’s pulled up into his arms. They’re tight bands under her legs, immovable, completely sure in their hold. He doesn’t stagger under the extra weight, instead striding off into the darkness of the abandoned base they’ve found themselves on, pulling their sabers to him as they pass them by.

She’s known he was strong.

She’s sees it in the way he carries himself…the broad shoulders and the way he moves, as if every muscle is in fast twitch mode, just waiting for something to come at him.

She’s seen it in the way he fights…the lightsaber that she found heavy in her hand, sparking and fighting to be unleashed as she used it. He twirls it easily, almost as an afterthought, a bit of a flourish, red against black.

But she’s not seen the play of muscles as he moves and the one time she’s seen him clothed in less than layers upon layers of black she tried very hard _not_ to look.

And so when she finds herself in his arms, carried as if she weighs no more than a small child, it amazes her. She defeated him, left him stunned and half dead on the snowy ground of Starkiller Base. She…a _scavenger_. She…a small slip of a girl, muscles honed from years of fighting for herself in the desert. But still…she…a _nothing_. And she was able to bring him to the ground.

Now she finds she wants to bring him to the ground in another way and so curls around him, one arm thrown around his shoulders and as he carries her through the dark she turns her head and finds his lips with her own. He stumbles then and she can’t help but smile against his lips. His curse is bitten back as he pauses to kiss her.

_She_ did that. She in all her inexperience had made Kylo Ren stumble and lose himself for a moment. She feels pride at that. It’s a strange thing, she realizes, as it bubbles up inside her. He’s older than her and she imagines that the First Order, unlike his earlier Jedi training, would give him plenty of opportunities to pursue such endeavors.

She tries to ignore that strange twinge of…. _something_. Jealousy, possession, feelings that bubble inside her and have no place in the Jedi training. _I am not a Jedi,_ she reminds herself. She has access to the Force, has the abilities, but she is not a Jedi, tapping into the light but also the dark when needed. Somewhere in the grey area between Jedi and Sith, a precarious balancing act that she knows _he_ has fallen to one side on. She doesn’t want to fall. She wants to stay on her tightrope in the middle. But sometimes…sometimes the dark gets her. And when she thinks of him with someone else, tied to someone else…

But no, he is no one’s, _has_ no one. She knows this, somehow. If there have been others…well, they are inconsequential. And yet still, she finds she wants to stake her claim on him, make him _hers_ and hers alone.

“I am.” He murmurs the words against her neck, his lips and tongue tracing fire where they touch her. She sometimes forgets that her thoughts broadcast themselves to him and she feels almost embarrassed that he’s heard her.

But she feels something race through her, thrilling her. _He is_.

And then they’re in a room, crew quarters from the little she can see of it. Not that she cares. As long as there’s a place for him to put her down. Which he does as soon as they’re in the room, dropping her onto the bed just a little harder than he must have expected.

She lets out a soft grunt.

He’s immediately on his knees at her side, all whispered apologies and a rawness that almost _hurts_.

“I’m fine,” she murmurs, her hands going to his hair. _A blessing, almost_ , she thinks as he bows his head and presses soft kisses to the inside of her wrist. She doesn’t want that. Those soft kisses, that gentleness. Maybe sometime, but not now. So she turns her hand away from his lips and reaches down to pull on his wrist.

He goes with her easily, even though he’s much larger than her, even though she knows if he resisted she wouldn’t be able to move him. She remembers seeing him without his shirt for the first time. She hadn’t expected it. Not his being half undressed, but also not him being so _much_. He’s always dressed in so many layers that she expected, somehow, for the clothing to be padded. But it’s not, she realizes. Beneath the tunic are bunched muscles, hard against her hands as she grips his upper arms and pulls him so he’s laying half on top of her on the tiny bunk.

It’s awkward but she doesn’t even care because his lips are on hers again and his hand is ghosting down her side, hovering near her hips. For a moment he seems uncertain and she feels a flash of… _something_ …but then she reaches out and firmly places his hand on her hip. Her jerks against her, a small thrust and a groan.

“I’m yours,” she whispers into his hair.

His hand squeezes her hip, maybe just a little too hard before he pulls himself up on his elbow to look down at her. She still can’t quite make out his face. Just the outline of his nose, the fall of his hair. His eyes are hidden in the shadows of the room and she wants to reach out, turn on a light. And yet somehow she knows that’s not the right thing to do.

His hand as it comes up to stroke her face is shaking and just that tiny tremor tells her that making any movement to _see_ him, to look into his eyes, will be too much.

But she nods, anyway, and when he hesitates yet again, she reaches down. _Be brave_ …she’s always been impulsive, daring. This is no different than plunging headfirst into a war she knows little about. They’ve gone this far. What’s a bit further?

_It’s everything_ …

But she pushes that thought away. They’re going to cross a line here. From stolen moments in the middle of a battle to _this_. Once it’s crossed, there’s no going back. She knows this. And she knows _he_ knows this. His thoughts are close to the surface. Fear mixed with certainty.

He wants this as much as she does.

He’s as scared as she is.

That somehow mollifies her, makes her bold. She pulls her shirt off in one motion, leaving herself bare except for the band around her breasts. There’s a hitch in his breathing as one of his hands comes up to sweep across her shoulder, down to the soft flesh of her belly. She quivers slightly at the light touch. It almost tickles and she’d laugh if he didn’t seem so deadly _serious_ about it.

His fingers splay out across her belly and she lets out a small gasp. His head shoots up and she knows he’s trying to find her eyes in the dark. “Rey,” he whispers and it’s a broken thing, that one word. Her name. Half sob, half question. She nods and opens up the connection between them.

_He can see her want, her need. She lets him delve in, skim the surface. She grants him permission, absolution_.

He’s on her with a cry strangled somewhere in his throat. She lifts up slightly and allows him to untie, untangle the band that keeps her breasts bound. It keeps her figure almost boyish, still the coltish young girl she was as a teenager. Too thin, a little too tall, gangly. _Lethal_. Her first kill was not with a lightsaber but rather someone who would have taken everything from her. She didn’t _mean_ to, of course. Not like now. But then she had no idea the extra power she wielded with every swing of her staff.

It no longer haunts her.

Which, really, explains _everything_.

He finally has the band mostly unwound and for one moment, just one, she wants to pull it back around her. There’s no going back from this. Not with him. She knows this much, has seen the intensity of it all deep inside him.

_They’re bonded_.

This can’t be simple physical gratification. If that’s all she needed, all _he_ needed, they’d find it with someone from their own side. No, this is the bond, drawing them closer, pulling them together, holding them within its grasp.

_Nothing can be simple._

_Nothing will ever be_ normal _again._ Not that Force-sensitive people ever lived exactly what one might consider a _normal_ life. But she feels them teetering on the end of something. The chance at _more_.

_Everything will change_.

And yet…she realizes, as he pauses, one hand hovering over her, his head cocked slightly to the side, change is _good_. Change led her to an understanding of her powers, to friends, to _him_.

“Please,” she whispers and it’s all he needs to bring his hand down to touch her, to slide the last of the band around her away. His hand, warm and heavy, settles on one of her breasts. She hears a sharp intake of breath and she finds herself smiling as his head dips a little lower, his hair brushing her bare shoulder.

“You can…” she starts to say, but she’s not sure what she’s even trying to tell him in that moment.

His hand moves slightly, the fingers brushing across her, almost tentatively touching her skin. He skims her breast, down her stomach. It tickles a little and she reaches down to press his hand more firmly to her.

“I won’t break.” And there’s a smile in her voice.

It’s all it takes for a little bit of him to break free. He makes a noise in the back of his throat and then his lips are at the nape of her neck, biting into the pulse point. Lightly, not enough to hurt but just enough to sting a little. Her back arches.

_This_.

_This_ is what her body wants.

Her hands reach up to his shoulders, run down his arms. He’s wearing too much and all she can think of, all she can remember, was that first shocking view of his body. Pale, scarred, but absolutely glorious…she wants no cowl on him now. She wants to feel all those hard muscles pressed to her. She can’t ever quite remember wanting something so _much_.

One of his hands touches her face briefly as he pulls back and then she hears frantic motions, a curse…

“You dress in too many layers.” There’s humor in her voice.

He pauses. “I know.” And she hates the way his voice is so serious. He’s stripping away more than just clothes, she realizes, peeling back the layers of Kylo Ren to leave her in the arms of Ben Solo. Two sides to the same coin. She knows this… _she knows this_.

_Balance…_

In all things.

They balance each other. But he balances himself too and she realizes that may be just as important.

_We are all light and dark._

Balance within, balance without.

Her mind comes back to herself when she feels him slide lower, teeth and tongue tracing her collar bone, the dip between her breasts. His kisses are almost frantic, artless. There’s no finesse there as he mouths at her.

He stops briefly and for a moment she wonders what he’s doing, what’s he’s _thinking_. There are times that he seems so sure of himself and times he seems hesitant, almost shy. He lays half on top of her, half off, and she realizes that he’s turned his head and pressed his ear to the space between her breasts.

_Her heart_ …

“Ben?” She doesn’t want to disturb the moment, but…

“Just…” He pauses there as his voice cuts off roughly. “Just give me a moment.”

She does.

She can’t deny him that much.

She can’t deny him _anything_ , she realizes. Not at that moment, not now when they’re so close and their bond is _singing_ with the contact. As if it’s been waiting for this moment, touch of hands and lips and the gentle scratch of nails across the scars on his back.

When her hands reach up to tangle in his hair, ever surprised at how _soft_ the strands are, he lets out a strangled groan. And then he’s moving, lips and tongue and teeth following hands down her body. He’s at each breast, at the dip between them, his tongue soothing where his teeth were moments before.

And _this_ is how she’s imagined it would go.

When his mouth touches just below her belly button she lets out a gasp. His hands are at the drawstring of her pants, hovering there. She can feel the heat, but not the touch of them. “Rey…”

“Yes.” He hesitates just a moment longer. “Please…”

He draws them down over her hips as she raises herself up a little to help him. And then she’s bare before him. She wants to bring her legs together, to hide, but it’s dark in the room and she can’t see his expression. She feels one of his hands brush down the skin of her stomach, lightly skimming her skin. One finger circles her belly button before continuing lower. He pauses there, that same finger brushing the curls at the apex of her thighs.

She lets out a small sigh and her legs part without her even having to think about it. It’s instinct, this. Not that she hasn’t thought about it, especially these last months as they keep meeting, stealing kisses and more in the midst of battles. But still, it seems her body knows what to do.

And then he pushes up off the bed, moving fast, stumbling. “Ben?” she starts to say but then lets out a shriek when his lightsaber ignites. She sits up, pushes back, reaches for hers. It all happens too fast.

“Wait…” he says and when she looks at him she realizes there’s no anger there, no fierceness in the gaze. He looks almost…sheepish… “I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to…”  She blinks once…twice… “And so you thought the best way to do that was to pull your saber on me? Again?”

“It may not have been my best plan,” he admits. “But…”

There’s no power where they are, the place completely devoid of life. Where they are is almost completely dark, a single sliver of light coming in from a hole in the walll. It’s been abandoned, left to decay a long time ago, and so bits of the old station have broken off as nature encroached. But here, there’s just that one pinprick of light.

And his saber.

It crackles in the air and she gives him a small grin. She understands. She wants to see him too. The play of the red saber gives him almost a demonic air, but his mouth is soft, his eyes as they trail down her body wider than usual. His mouth is half open, full lips parted and she can _feel_ his awe passing over and through the bond.

He kneels next to her and pulls her legs a little bit further apart. Leaning close, he runs one finger up her thigh, lingering there for a moment before taking in a deep breath and continuing on. The first swipe of that same finger through her folds has her almost jumping from the sensation. Something passes across the bond... _surprise, amazement, he doesn’t know it could be like this_ …

“They sure don’t teach you much in the First Order, do they?” she mutters under her breath and she feels another emotion pass through the bond. It’s gone before she can even really latch onto it. It almost feels like _shame_ , but that’s not quite it.

“May I?” his finger has paused there, still lightly touching her.

“Please,” she murmurs. If he doesn’t, she’s almost sure she’s going to just take matters into her own hand. She’s on _fire_ and while she’s explored herself before, it’s never felt like _this_.

He touches her again, moves his finger through the slick folds, turning it this way and that. When he hits the right spot, her hips buck slightly and he almost drops the saber he still holds in his other hand. She feels it come close to her face.

“Shut it off.”

“But…”

“Just do it.” The words come out harsher than she means them to and the world is plunged into darkness again. She hears the clatter of the saber hit the ground a moment before he brings his hand back to her.

“Rey,” he murmurs against the inside of her thigh, his breath ghosting across her as he continues to move one finger, hitting that bundle of nerves over and over again.

“Ben.” His name is almost a sigh, a half broken thing that comes out without her even meaning to say it. She feels tight inside, she knows it won’t take much more.

She feels his lips along her thigh, touching, tasting, and then feels his breath close to her, close to where his fingers are. “Ben, what are you…” But she can’t finish that. His mouth is on her, his tongue swiping across opening, teasing her before finally moving to the bundle of nerves that his finger had been caressing. Her hands are fisted in his hair. The bond is singing, a confused rush of emotions as he continues to lap at her. She needs him inside her, she realizes, and he complies with his hand, one finger crooking inside her, as if the bond is directing him, telling him what she wants, what she _needs_. A second finger pressing insider her is all it takes before she breaks apart, the world sparking around her.

As she comes down, just a bit, she realizes his head is laying on her belly and he’s shaking, the motion slight but definitely there. “I did that…” he murmurs and for a moment she’s not sure what to say. There are emotions there, more than she really wants to acknowledge at that moment.

She murmurs his name but he doesn’t respond, so she tugs on his hair. His head shoots up and he whispers her name, like it’s a prayer to some unknown deity.

“Here,” she whispers and pulls him up toward her. He goes easily, shifting so that he’s no longer kneeling on the floor. Bent awkwardly over her, he leans down to kiss her. She tastes herself on him and finds it’s strange, but not unpleasant. When his mouth opens on hers, she lets him in. Slow, languid. His arms at her side tremble a little. “You’re overdressed,” she whispers into his ear and his rewarded with a shudder.

As her hands stray to his belt he shifts away from her. “Are you sure?”

She pauses for a moment before resuming her work and she almost laughs when she hears him groan. Then his own hands slap hers away and he’s undoing his pants with much more efficiency than she could have. It’s not like she has much, well, _any_ , experience with men’s pants. But he does and they’re off, tossed across the room like so much garbage and then he’s over her, pushing her back.

“Rey…” he starts to say as her legs spread to invite him in. “We don’t…” She pushes up to kiss him, to cut off whatever protest he’s about to make.

“No, we don’t,” she says against his lips. “But I _want_ to.” And the words are fierce. She feels him nod against her forehead and then he pushes forward with his hips.

And misses.

She lets out a small giggle and his head comes to rest on her shoulder, his hair tickling across her collarbone. “Rey, I don’t…”

She doesn’t know what else he was going to say. It doesn’t matter, she realizes. Whatever it was is swallowed up in the way his breath stutters as she reaches down to grasp him. He’s bigger than she expected, though she realizes she shouldn’t have been surprised considering the sheer size of him. She’s not a small woman, but in his presence she feels absolutely tiny.

And so for a moment she feels that tiny bit of fear, but then she’s leading him to where he needs to be and he’s pushing inside and he _does_ fit. Tight, hot, a little uncomfortably stretched at first. There’s no pain and she thanks the stars for that, but it’s a strange feeling.

A _lovely_ one, she realizes as he’s finally sheathed inside her.

He pauses there and she can hear him gasping for breath. He says her name once, twice. “I didn’t know it could be like this.” His voice is soft, strained. Each word seems to take more effort than it should. She reaches out a hand to touch his arm and finds the cords of his arm as he hovers above her, tight. He’s holding himself back.

“Don’t…” She whispers the word, but he seems to know what she means. He always does. He pulls back, just as she wants and then slams into her. Her legs wrap around him, her hands pulling him tight against her. All sweaty skin and strength and that scent she now understands as _sex_.

He’s moving in her, a few more thrusts, then the motion stutters. “Rey,” he says and even though it’s just one word it sounds almost panicked.

“Ben?”

“I can’t…” he starts to say but then his hands grip her hips and he’s driving into her one last time before he lets go with a groan. She keeps herself wrapped around him as he rides it out, pressing tightly into her until he’s spent and exhausted and finally falls heavily onto her.

She should feel smothered.

But she doesn’t.

She feels…content. She lets her legs unwrap from around him, but revels in their still being joined. Her hands trace lazy circles down his back. He finally pushes back a little, his body sliding from hers as he comes to lay next to her, his head pillowed on her chest.

His hair, still soft, is now slicked with sweat, clinging to the sides of his face and she pushes it back. It takes her a moment of holding him, of touching his hair, his face, to realize he’s shaking a little. “I don’t think there are any blankets here.” Her voice is a little amused, a little apologetic.

“I’m not cold,” he mutters. His voice sounds absolutely…dejected.

“Ben?” She reaches down to touch his face and traces the moisture there. Moisture, she realizes, that is _not_ the cooling of sweat against his brow. “Are you…”

“Don’t.” _Shame_ …there it is again, tracing its way across the bond. Shame and embarrassment and _disgust_. Self-directed, she realizes.

“I don’t understand.” He wanted this. She’s sure of it. _He wanted it just as much as I did…_

“I did,” he says in response to the words she can’t quite get out. “I do.” He means them and she breathes a small sigh of relief.

“But you’re…” She lets the words hang. _Crying_. Those are tears. Kylo Ren, the great Supreme Leader of the First Order, is just barely hanging on, trying to keep himself from sobbing into her naked breasts and she’s really is not sure what to make of that.

“Yes.”

“I don’t…”

“I wanted it to be special.” The words come out on a rush of breath, a little harsh, a little angry. _Shame and disgust and…_ not hate…something else. Something nebulous. He’s holding onto it tightly, keeping his mind wrapped around it as if it’s a secret he dare not reveal. Not even to her, who he clings to in that moment as if she’s some safe haven in the midst of the storm of his emotions.

They lay in silence for a moment but then…

Something slips through…

It’s just a small, almost insignificant detail. But it comes creeping across the bond, a tentative brushing of her mind with his.

He wants her to know.

But he can’t say it, can’t bring the words forth. He’s _embarrassed_. And she doesn’t know why she didn’t realize it before. Images flash through her mind. His trembling, his hands uncertain, his needing to see her, amazement and pride all mixed up with an intense fear of doing the wrong thing, of disappointing her.

And then she knows. For a moment, she’s left breathless. “This was…”

“Yes,” he cuts her off with. _His first time._

“How?” The word slips out before she can stop it.

“I would think that’s rather obvious.” The response is part amusement, part self-loathing. It’s a combination that wouldn’t sit right on anyone and yet it’s not exactly a surprise coming from this man. He’s a blend of so many disparate parts…rage and fear on one side, love and loneliness on the other. All sharp, hard edges and soft hands and mouth with eyes that sometimes narrow in anger and widen in what she can only describe as awe when he looks at her.

“But…”

“Can we not talk about this?” he mutters against her.

She murmurs her apology into the sweat-slicked hair at the top of his head. She’s surprised at the strange bit of elation that works its way through her mind and down her body. She shivers a little and pulls him closer.

He pushes away from her then, just a little, trying to see her in the dim light. One hand comes up to lightly touch her face. “You _like_ that?” She lets out a small laugh at the astonishment that colors his voice. “You _do_.” She leans up and kisses him then, lingering over the fullness of his mouth. Soft, almost sweet. Things she never would have expected out of the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

_Ben_ , she thinks. Here he’s not Kylo Ren. Here he’s Ben. _Her_ Ben.

“I do,” she confirms. “You’re _mine_.” She lets him see into her mind for a moment. Her little bit of a possessive streak and more…

“Yours too?”

“Yes. It was.”

“I didn’t know.” He’s silent for a moment as he traces a few soft kisses across her collar bone. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” Her mind is an open book to him and she lets him read as he wants, lets him dip in and read emotions and see moments, reassure himself that he really _didn’t_ hurt her.

“I thought it was supposed to.” He sounds a little dumbfounded and Rey can’t help but laugh.

“I guess you did something right then, because it didn’t.”

_Pride_ …

And she laughs again, pulling him close, her hand stroking down planes of his cooling sweat-slicked back. They’ll have to part ways soon. She knows he won’t come with her. He knows she won’t come with him. This changes nothing, not really. But at the same time it changes _everything_. They’re bound together in more ways than one now, not only their minds but now hearts as well.

Finding their way to each other on opposite sides of a galactic war? It’s a balancing act, but it’s one she’s coming to realize she’s willing to pursue for the sake of this man. Nemesis and the lover she never could have quite imagined, all wrapped up into one man. And maybe someday the war will end and they can find _some_ way to be together, some way to balance the light and dark between them.

It’s a hope at least. But for now she’ll cling to these moments as they come, hiding away with her errant lover whenever they can find a way to each other.

* * *

_Three months later…_

“General, I think you’re going to want to see this.”

Leia strides through the group toward Poe. Rey finds she can’t look away from the pilot. There’s a look in his eyes as he looks first at the general, then at her. Something she can’t quite define. She can’t read his emotions like she can Ben’s, but she’s good at reading body language and there’s a certain stiffness to his posture, surprise written into the lines of his face.

Leia glances down at the communication. Rey can’t see it from where she is but she can hear the small gasp the general lets out, watches her sway slightly as she grips the panel. Poe is there, ready to catch her if need be.

“What is it?” Finn says from somewhere behind Rey. He’s grown more and more into himself these past months. Confident in his place in the Resistance, he now speaks up any chance he gets, tries to shape them and push them forward.

“My son,” Leia says. She continues to stare at the comm panel for a moment. “He’s left the First Order.”

“He what?” Finn again and there’s genuine surprise there.

Rey is the one who now feels a little faint. _He did it. He really walked away from it all._ And then all eyes are on _her_ as the general turns to meet her eyes.

“There’s more,” the older woman says and the look on her face says she understands far more than she should.

Rey steps forward then, moves to the comm panel as Leia steps back a little. There is indeed more and she understands why Leia wouldn’t want to speak this out loud. Just three words. That’s all it takes to send her mind reeling and her heart racing.

_Rey…find me…_

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this started based on this prompt: "Kylo tries his best, but it’s obvious to Rey after he cums in 30 seconds and starts crying that this was his first time. " But then it grew a complete life of it's own. Maybe sometime I'll actually write a super awkward sex scene where nothing goes right. But...well...this wasn't the one.


End file.
